Fetters or shackles serue to make fast, Male malefactours, that on myschiefe do muse, Vntyll the learned lawes do quite or do cast, Such suttile searchers, as all euyll do vse.
{89}
[Headnote: HARMON. THE ROGE’S END.]
[lf 30, bk]
¶ O dolefull daye! nowe death draweth nere, Hys bytter styng doth pearce me to the harte. {90} I take my leaue of all that be here, Nowe piteously playing this tragicall parte. Neither stripes nor teachinges in tyme could conuert, wherefore an ensample let me to you be, And all that be present, nowe praye you for me.
